More on being poor

It’s been a while since we talked money.  And yes I am still poor, no change there – surprise surprise.  Ed McMahon hasn’t show up at my door with a big check telling me I have won Publisher’s Clearinghouse (dating myself here…), and hubby’s disability was denied AGAIN. At the hearing level.  What does that mean?  It means that we have a pretty low chance of it being approved- ever.  He has plan B in the works, but until then we are poor.  And I have in some ways gotten use to worrying about money over the years, we’ve been poor for many many years- though admittedly not as poor as we have been the past 5 years.  Anyway none of that is the point….

I am so tired of the way people treat you when you are poor.  Especially how they treat you when you are getting “help” otherwise known as WELFARE it’s a dirty word.  A word people whisper.  In fact it’s a word of a gone by era.  They call it other things now, food stamps are now supplemental nutrition assistance program, and there is TANF, temporary aid to needy families.   The names have changed but the way people look at those in line to spend their food stamps haven’t. They scrutinize what’s in your cart.

People in the community and on television say mean and nasty things about people receiving the help.  Calling them lazy, losers, moochers.  Drains on society.  Assume they all sorts of things about “those people”.

The workers at the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS).  They are anything by human and certainly not HUMANE.  In the waiting room is a huge poster with a cartoon spy with a magnifying glass requesting people keep an eye out for people defrauding the system and report them.  It’s a very intimidating place.  To a young person I can imagine it would be scary.  To me, it incenses me.  They too scrutinize your every word, they look at you with disgust.  I get they are low paid, over worked employees of the state, but kindness is free.  And I would be willing to bet the majority of people coming through their doors do not want to be there.

I am tired of being judged because of where my life has taken me.  I am tired of people looking down on me and assuming I am a lazy, drain on society.  I have mental illness, I have enough to worry about, I don’t need to worry about the fact that my being poor is yet another thing that makes me different from everyone else around me.  I already live the fact that it makes my life harder.

So next time you see someone swipe their food stamps card give them a smile not a smirk.  If you hear someone lambasting the “welfare rats” remind them most people don’t want to be there.  And most importantly remember- kindness is always free.

Until next time.

Is it normal?

Is it normal do you think that the best part of my week is the time I spend with my counselor, in my DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy group) and seeing my psychiatric nurse practitioner?  They make me laugh.  Sometimes they make me cry.  They make me feel things, real things.  They don’t look at me like I am crazy.  They don’t yell at me about all my OCD “rules” and rituals.  They don’t treat me like I am “sick” or like I am a specimen to be studied, but like a human, like I am an important human, maybe even a funny and smart human.  Someone who is more than just the crazy.  Someone who matters beyond what you see, beyond the hand washing, the disinfecting wipes, the checking, the fears, the depression, the anxiety, the hiding.

Do they see me? Is that why it’s the best part of my week? I don’t know, but it is.  And part of me is glad. I’m glad I have a best part of my week.  But part of me is not glad, part of me thinks it’s sad that the best part of my week is when I go to my mental health providers.

What are you going to do?

What are you going to do?

What’s your plan after graduation?

And what are you going to do with your degree?

I get asked that question so much.  Too much.  I want to scream at everyone that I have no clue.  I had no clue when I was eighteen years old and in college and I have no idea now…. maybe even less of an idea.  I am forty-one years old and I have no idea who I am.

Graduation… ah graduation.  18 days away and I literally feel like no one cares. My inlaws doted on my husband all weekend, acting like he was made of glass because of “all the work” he had been doing for school;  My mother in law narrowing her eyes at me asking what I have been doing to be so tired.  As if I hadn’t been up until 3am every night for the past 3 months trying to stay on top of a workload I can’t handle. I am so tired I can barely function.  I am so overwhelmed I waffle from angry to so sad it’s unbearable. And graduation? Well my husband and “so busy” he can’t make it a priority to schedule 2 hours into his day to watch the children so I can pick up my cap and gown.  My mother HAS to go camping – unless there is an issue with her calf that’s to be born that will keep her home that weekend- why even bother.  No one cares- Im not even sure if I do.  I mean what I care about is the fact that no one seems to care.  I know my sister probably won’t make the trip up, she will have just made the trip the weekend before, and I am not reminding my mother in law she just ruins every day she’s around anyway.  Maybe I just won’t go.  Why would I want to waddle up the stage round faced in front of everyone anyway.  Besides I made this really cute countdown, and now, it’s gone.  It was on my shelf next to my desk, and it’s disappeared, maybe it’s a sign.

The evil gremlin inside me is trying to convince me to not do anymore work in my classes, to just not finish to get what I get for grades… It sounds so inviting.  I just want to go to bed and never get out of it again.

Yup, I am feeling sorry for myself again this is why I hardly write anymore, I feel like no one wants to read about some whiney American forty-something woman who can’t seem to get her life together and stop feeling like shit.

 

Graduation…

Duh duh duh duh duh duhhhhh….. were you singing it in your head?

I got a letter in the mail today about graduation. I can’t decide what I want to do about graduation. I don’t know if I want to go. On the one hand I want to show it to all the people who thought I couldn’t do it. I want to say “do I shine now?” But they probably won’t even be there so….. At the same time squeezing my fat body into a cap and gown, be in a huge room with thousands of people, hear my name read off, have to walk across a stage, shake hands with multiple people…. I’m starting to panic just thinking about it. I feel the walls closing in.

I feel the walls closing in anyway. I feel like I am drowning. I can’t seem to get my head above water….

Reset.

Reset day 1… again.

That is all.

Whipping Girl…

I am sick of life. I am sick of being the butt of every joke. I’m sick of all of it.

I’ve made some comments to my children about the fact that they constantly pick on me with “jokes”. Once in a while is funny, multiple times a day is harassment. They take my phobias and terrorize me with them- funny once, not funny after the 4th or 5th time in an hour.

Every appointment Big One has with his counselor is spent bashing me. I keep him on a tight leash. I expect too much of him. I give too much schoolwork. Every.single.time it’s about me.

This past weekend at his youth group retreat he made a very inappropriate joke about something he didn’t even know what it was- he had heard it at school, people laughed so he used it for his comedy. It then commenced a talk from the pastor. This was autism at its finest. We talked and talked about it last night he was so mad. Screaming. Yelling. And yet when he went to the counselor this morning they discussed me- and all the ways I fail.

I’m done. So freaking done.

Nom de Plume: Just because I love that phrase…

Sometimes I wish I had written this without anyone in my “real” life being able to read it.  I have been very careful not to identify myself for strangers who might know me in person, but I know of a few of my friends and family who read this.

But that makes it hard for me to talk about several topics.  I don’t feel like I am able to talk about my frustrations with certain things (and people) in my life.

So on to what I feel like I can say.  First of all over the past couple of years I have become an expert in faking it.  We just had some people here that coordinate the mental health workers for my kids. They commented on how happy I seemed.  Ha! Little to they know how I have been feeling today.  Little do they know how with deliberateness (Is that a word) and calmness I self-harmed this morning. I have to reset the “clock” I have – 160 days I made it.  But this morning I just needed relief, and it felt good.

I’m at that scary place where it all seems fine on the outside but on the inside I am a bubbling mass of mess.

I guess that’s all….

“Best of Intentions?”, “Homeschool Part 2?”, or “Really?….No Crap?”

Which title fits this post the best? You decide.

I had big plans to write here more often in 2019.  I planned to chronicle my crawl back to … I don’t know where.  Maybe just my crawl forward…. but as always life gets in the way. First we went on a family vacation- which was nice.  It’s been a long time.  Then there was getting back into the swing of things, and finally last week was the week of appointments with a snow day smack dab in the middle of the week. Fun.

Last week… ugh.  Started bright and early Monday morning with an appointment with the endocrinologist who officially diagnosed me with type 2 diabetes.  Meds, meter, set me up with an appointment to see the nutritionist, have I heard of Keto?, lose weight.  (insert eye roll).  Tuesday morning saw Princess Glitter Sparkle- yes still seeing her, still loving her, though she did suggest I keep a gratitude journal (ugggghhhh fine… but I don’t have to like it– yes I am wicked pissy lately).  Then straight to Big One’s counselor who expressed his concern about Big One’s depression- we are too, trying to get a handle on what will help.  A short lunch break and off to Little One’s counselor.  I was sure making the rounds that day. (insert BIG eye roll here).  Wednesday plans (more appointments) came to screeching halt with a snow day…. yay?!?! Thursday trip to see the ENT for a hearing test referral to HOPEFULLY get to the bottom of the ringing in my ears that is threatening to put me in the looney bin faster than my life will.  He said it’s either hearing loss or… wait for it…. who the heck knows why ringing and either way there may or may not be anything that we can do for it??!?!?! If there is significant hearing loss I can fix it or live with it.  And if it’s unknown reason well I have to live with it. (Gosh I love being me).  After that went to Mary Poppins.  Still love her.  She wants to keep on keeping on regarding meds for now.  Im good with that.  Something stable right?  After her I met with my case manager – I need to come up with a name for her.  She drives me crazy.  I don’t think I like her.  Of course it could be that she handed me a big packet of articles about exercise, weight loss etc.  (bang head on wall).  Final visit rounding out the week was my urologist.  I’ll spare you the gory details, but his parting words were- “any extra weight we carry makes things worse”

I GET IT ALREADY IM FAT I NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT.  I get it.  I do.  I know that losing weight will make certain medical things better.  But I just can’t seem to get motivated to do that.  I want to say I need to get my head in order but really will there ever be a time where my head is in order and I am ready to lose weight? Who knows.  I KNOW I need to be the “no excuses” girl I was 5 years ago.  Sometimes I wish I could find her again.  Though I will admit there were things about her that I could live without… but that’s a topic for another day.

So let’s see that covers “Best of Intentions” and “Really?….No Crap?”… onto Homeschool Part 2.

I already mentioned we were going to be homeschooling Little One.  We started that last week in the midst of appointment-hell.  It went well so far.  She’s been happy to do her work, and seems to be enjoying what she is studying.  But Friday night things came to a head with Big One.  He’s been struggling… socially horribly all year… and it’s affecting his mood- obviously – he’s so depressed (as I mentioned above), and it’s affecting his grades.  Not cool.  He’s getting an F and a C-.  Not cool at all.  But Friday he got an email from his co-leader of the club he started at school, basically telling him that he was no longer a leader because he didn’t do enough behind the scenes things, and moreover that they weren’t friends anymore…. for basically all the issues that a child with Autism has—- self preoccupation, not thinking about how others are feeling, etc etc etc.  HE CANT HELP IT.  I wish I could scream that from the rooftops.  HE CAN NOT HELP THE WAY HE IS. We have worked on this stuff for… forever…. there is only so much we can do.

I don’t get it, with all the talk these days about tolerance, acceptance etc why is it ok for people to not be that way to people like him?  I can’t even.

So Friday night he got this email, and he lost it.  He yelled, he screamed.  He said he wouldn’t go back to school and he didn’t care who we called- crisis, the police he didn’t care.  But worst of all?  He sobbed and sobbed.  Uncontrollably.  My baby boy just shut down and cried.  I haven’t seen him do that in years.   YEARS.  My heart broke, and I wanted blood.  Of course I told him he didn’t have to go back to a place that has done this to him.

Insert note- I may or may not have had a PTSD moment bringing me back to my sophomore year when I was the child sobbing- into my pillow- and wishing I didn’t have to go back—

So we have been researching Charter Schools, but it’s hard mid-year.  So we may be homeschooling him for the remainder of the year as well as Little One.  That will bet interesting with my 4 classes.  But I know God will get us through it all.  But all I know is that I WILL protect my kids, no matter what.  And if that means discomfort for me, so be it.  I will take a much harder hit to my mental health if something were to cause my son to do something drastic… or even if he continued to be so unhappy.  So judge me if you will.  Some will.  Some will say I made the wrong decision.  Some will say he needs to be in school to get used to the “real world”.  And to them I say- until you have seen your 15.5 year old son turn into a little boy rocking in your arms crying and sobbing, don’t judge me.

Until next time- (which I hope is sooner rather than later)

Schools out for Christmas.

Turned in my term paper and took my final and with that this semester is closed. I have received my final grade in on class 98.75% not too shabby ;). Waiting on grades for my other 3 classes – supposed to post by Saturday.

I was looking forward to a good month off- but instead I decided to take a winter term class. WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG WITH ME???

But by doing that I will be able to take 3 classes next semester (MY LAST ONE!!) instead of 4. And one class I took only lasts 7 weeks, so after that I will be in 2 classes until I graduate.

Other than that, things haven’t really changed – just plodding along. Hubby and I were talking yesterday and I said something – I don’t remember what- and he said in a surprised tone- do you think you’ll never get better?” I was brutally honest. I told him I am definitely losing hope of that and that I’m beginning to believe this is as good as it will ever get. He said he can’t believe that’s the case.

But it’s true. I think over the past couple of years and I don’t see very much progress. It’s disheartening.

I guess that’s all. Until next time…

So done.

Do you have those days/weeks/months/years when you feel like you are just done.  Done with adulting, with fighting for every thing, with trying to get through the day?  That’s where I am today.  Sick and tired of it all.

The IEP meeting went horribly.  All my predictions came true.  And now we are facing what move to make next.  I am already fighting the school to follow the IEP in place for my son, he has two years left.  I don’t have it in me to fight another 10 years for help for my daughter.  It’s not gotten us anywhere.   So we are seriously considering bringing her home for homeschool again.  Ugh.  So many pros and cons- and neither side has an overwhelming majority.

All through the IEP meeting my whole body was shaking.  I tried to take a drink from my water bottle (which I should fill with vodka next time) and I nearly spilled it all over the table.  I even told the OT I disagree with her.  She’s a useless person.  Little one has an incorrect pencil grip, has trouble forming her letters the “right” way – like she starts her S at the bottom, and she many letter reversals- b and d, p and q sometimes a.  Well the OT said they can’t correct the pencil grip and the formation because it’s now muscle memory and would be too difficult to fix.  As for letter reversals they said they do that in K-1 so they can’t do that, plus in 2nd grade they don’t mark those wrong…. so hubby and I countered with – so we will wait till it’s “a habit and muscle memory that’s too hard to fix” and deal with it when she is failing and getting things wrong.  And basically they said yes.  WTH.  They also don’t want to do an OT eval, because of her non-compliance with tests…. I was like, isn’t that indicative of a problem right there?   She had no answer for that. STUPID.

Normally by now I have gotten Christmas decorations out.  I am dreading it this year.  It all seems like so much work.

I am thankful I am done my Christmas shopping other than what I need to get 2 friends.  Things are getting worse, and at least that’s not hanging over my head.

So yeah… done.